


the disaster artist

by foetend



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Artists, Drabble, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Inquisitor, Humor, Oneshot, Portraits, Terrible Ones, inspired by a tumblr post, josephine tries, she really does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 15:10:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foetend/pseuds/foetend
Summary: Josephine hires an artist of some renowned to paint portraits of the Inquisitor's Inner Circle. It does not go well.Inspired by a Tumblr post.





	the disaster artist

**Author's Note:**

> [The post](https://agentkatie.tumblr.com/post/186441933865/if-anything-can-draw-this-fandom-together-please) that inspired this silly fic.
> 
> Please excuse any errors I literally wrote this at 1 AM hopped up on caffeine.

"Are you sure the artist is good?"

Josephine, laying down her quill for the briefest of moments, nodded passionately as she clasped her hands together. 

"Certainly, Inquisitor! I have it on good authority that this artist is a rising star in Orlais and everyone is clamoring to have their portraits done!"

The Inquisitor frowned and rubbed a thumb over their chin as they pondered the awkward situation they currently found themselves in. 

"Well, you haven't steered me wrong so far. I suppose I'll spread the news and let everyone know." 

*

Dorian went first and wore his best robe for his sitting. It was a lovely black silken thing, embroidered with golden birds and white petaled flowers, and he finished his look off by carefully manicuring his facial hair. He laid across the arm of Vivienne's couch, one hand casually holding open a book and the other his finely chiseled chin. It would be perfect, he decided.

It was not perfect.

For one thing, the lighting was all wrong. He had specifically chosen that time of day and that exact spot because the light filtering in from the large window made his skin glow and appear nearly wrinkle-free. His face completely lacked his exquisite bone structure and the _facial hair._ Maker. If he tilted his head and squinted, he looked exactly like his father.

He had half a mind to take out a hit on the artist. 

*

The artist swore that they had an appointment with a boy named Cole but in the end, the painting was only of an empty chair.

"It's a very nice chair," Cole whispered in the artist's ear. The artist looked around the empty room with confusion, a chill running down their spine, and suddenly remembered that they hadn't written a letter to their mother in quite some time.

*

Sera went third and only because the Inquisitor threatened to send her to the Fallow Mire to deal with some rambunctious undead if she didn't. She didn't bathe beforehand and had a smear of what appeared to be jam streaked on her cheek. She did, however, give her hair a slight trim and it was certainly an interesting choice on her part. Parts of her hair stuck up in angles that seemed to defy gravity and her bangs were so short that they could hardly be considered bangs anymore.

Either way, when she saw her finished portrait, she laughed so hard she peed herself a little bit. 

"Is my snout really that massive?" She cackled with glee as she pulled a black grease crayon from her pocket. After a few seconds, she stepped away with a satisfied look. "Here. Fixed."

Josephine tried not cry when Sera revealed the thick, dark mustache that now graced her portrait's upper lip. A small fat bee was scribbled into the corner alongside a very tiny penis complete with an equally tiny pair of balls.

Sera cracked a wide toothy smile, "See? Now I match Dorian!"

*

Vivienne let no one see her completed portrait as she set it aflame the moment it was done. She might have, she admitted later, also set the artist's trousers on fire as well. No one dared speak of it for fear of similar punishment.

*

The Iron Bull could not sit still. He squirmed, his large form far too much for the plush Orlesian chair he was placed in, and rolled his eye as the artist worked as quickly as they could. 

"There's a reason the Qunari aren't known for art," he warned in a low voice. The artist worked even quicker.

It showed.

When Josephine pulled off the sheet to reveal the completed painting, Krem doubled over in laughter and the rest of the Chargers followed suit. The Iron Bull snorted and shook his head. His horns were but a suggestion, a dark squiggly section that could easily be mistaken for an avant-garde Orlesian hat. In fact, when he looked closer, it kind of looked like Madame de Fer's distinct horned hat. His nose was a smudge and an ugly one at that. 

Krem wiped away a tear and laid a hand on Bull's shoulder.

"Well, Chief. I'd say that's a face only a mother could love but Qunari don't have mothers, now do they?"

*

Varric outright refused.

"I already have a portrait and I'd be more than happy to commission a copy for the Inquisition," he said blithely as he tinkered with Bianca. 

Josephine really, really tried not to cry when a larger than life portrait of Varric shirtless and surrounded by half-naked women of various races arrived at her desk. She really did.

*

Cullen's portrait was done during war table meetings and he muttered under his breath darkly every time he saw the artist stowed away in the corner with their easel and paints.

"Is this really necessary? Isn't this a security issue?" He looked to Leliana, desperation clear in his eyes. The redhead smiled at him sweetly and tapped a finger on the map.

"I've had my people look into the artist and they are completely trustworthy." She added a playful wink at the end that only served to agitate him further.

Cullen grumbled and laid one hand on the hilt of his sword. The artist flinched and attempted to hide behind their oversized easel.

His portrait gave him the appearance of one who had been run over by a pack of halla. Twice. Leliana hid a smile behind her hand as she comforted Josephine, who at this point was becoming accustomed to crying in the middle of the day.

*

Solas agreed to sit for the artist but his patience quickly grew short. As the artist rummaged far too long through a box filled with brushes, a grimace spread across his face and eventually he grit his teeth to prevent himself from outright frowning.

In the end, his portrait had a slightly constipated look to it that everyone politely refrained from commenting on. Except, of course, for Sera. 

"It's a real likeness of you, Solas. He looks just as full of shit as the real you!"

Sola bit his tongue and returned to the rotunda without another word.

After everyone had left the room, Sera added a lovely mustache and a hat that, from the side, had a very strong resemblance to cock and balls. Josephine locked the portrait in a fire-proof safe as a precaution to prevent another "spell misfire" incident just like Vivienne had.

*

Josephine, in an effort to cheer herself up, eagerly volunteered to the next subject.

She wished she hadn't.

*

Cassandra was as unwilling as Cullen and more sour-faced than Solas. She exhibited such strong vibes of utter hatred that the artist's hands trembled as they worked.

The end product made everyone so uncomfortable, so cowered by her penetrating glare, that Josephine hung it at the prison's entrance. Crime in their region, Leliana noted at the next war table meeting, went down a stark 15% after word got around about the frightening portrait that now hung in Skyhold's prison. Cassandra, torn by her sense of vanity and her love of law and order, accepted this with a quiet but firm _"UGH"_.

*

In a moment of fortuitous timing, nearly all of the members of the Inner Circle found themselves at the unveiling of Blackwall's portrait. The Warden stood by the door, ready to escape the moment the sheet was pulled off. 

The artist stood by the covered easel, a shy smile on their face. With a nervous laugh, they pulled the sheet back and everyone prepared themselves for the worst.

Dorian gasped and turned to Blackwall with accusing eyes. "You son of a bitch."

"Now that's art." The Iron Bull crossed his arms and nodded appreciatively. Solas merely sighed and Vivienne had a clear look of exasperation. Cassandra grunted in disgust and Cullen just rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

"Aww, Beardy. Look at you." Sera gave Blackwall an affectionate punch on the shoulder. The bearded man's face turned a bright shade of crimson and he found himself muttering under his breath.

Cole touched the portrait on the beard and gave it a puzzled look. "They've trapped Blackwall in the painting." Varric chuckled and moved Cole's hand away, lest he smear the still slightly wet paint.

The Inquisitor finally relaxed, the whole situation finally over. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

The Inquisitor, if asked about that day, would swear they would rather face down a dozen fearlings then ever deal with an entire room full of their angry companions.

Josephine cried, again, but this time out of happiness. Blackwall's portrait was hung in a place of honor in her office and it made her smile every time she passed it.

**Author's Note:**

> It probably goes without saying that this takes place before Blackwall's personal quest lol


End file.
